Ping Pong Poem by David Blake

Ping Pong



Too much wine, sometimes I even believe
the lie that I pretend not live. In my head,
I try to pretend that she is dead. Living
large alone she came and now everything
is supersonic like the the visions in my
head. I dance and dance and again I cant
remember all the things that we have said.
When we finally go to bed she says 'not
tonight' and this reminds me why all my
friends say that I am out of my head.

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